


Recognition Memory

by blindPersecutor



Category: Caduceus | Trauma Center Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2040459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindPersecutor/pseuds/blindPersecutor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi's just about to leave when she's roped into taking a patient in the ER due to all the other doctors being busy. But the guy sitting in the treatment room seems so familiar, and the patient feels like he's known his doctor for such a long time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Familiar Faces

The sun was setting on another day at the hospital. Personnel clocked out, chattering on their phones or to colleagues as they walked out of their workplace. Nurses and doctors on the graveyard shift patrolled the halls and patients' rooms, responding to requests, questions, and calls. Patients' families shuffled out of the hospital, bidding their relatives goodbye. Deep in the labyrinth of rooms, a surgeon was just finishing up her day- until her pager trilled harshly, demanding her attention.

Naomi tore her eyes away from the computer monitor, fished the pager out of her pocket, and grimaced. 'TO ER STAT' was spelled out in block letters against the green screen. Well, the paperwork for the child who had surgery and an overnight stay could wait, she supposed. The wheels of her office chair rolled smoothly across the tile as she pushed away from her desk and logged out, gathering up a few pages of paper. They were put into a folder with 'Surgical Cases- 3/26' scrawled on the tab. A permanent smudge of carbon marred the tab. The folder was stored in one of three filing cabinets stored in the office, which took up most of the space. Naomi shut the cabinet door and opened her office door, stepping out into the hospital halls.

The too-bright florescents of the hall took a moment to get used to after she'd spent a while staring at the bright monitor. She blinked once, twice, before starting off. The bland hall near the surgeon's offices was empty, although the clatter of keyboards being used and quiet conversations took place behind some of the doors. The beige and leaf-green halls gave way to the speckled tiles and pale yellow walls of the ER's wing, and the tranquil silence was filled with frantic doctors and nurses and moans of pain. Naomi's pace sped up- what was it, a car or boat accident? A fire? A fight or an attack?

The light and bright emergency room's admissions area was almost completely filled with patients, most bloodied and battered. As she would later find out from a good friend of hers, it was a car accident. He had operated on one of the six victims that was bad enough to be rushed into emergency surgery. The surgeon scanned the patients as she passed by, overlooking the man who was sat in the corner with a friend of his own. His arm was torn open. The wound glimmered sickeningly with fresh blood and jagged shards of glass when he gingerly removed the towel, used to soak up the blood, to check on the state of the wound. Maroon splotches of dried blood looked bright against his pale skin. The wound smelled slimy and coppery from the new blood still seeping out.

"I'm here as commanded. What's the situation, what is it you need me to do?" She leaned her elbows on the admissions counter as Emma turned around, a look of relief clear on her face.

"I'm so glad you're still here, Doctor! Leslie thought you had gone home, but I knew better. We've got enough surgeons right now but we're short on doctors, and one of the nurses is gone too. We were wondering if you would mind taking a patient in to help alleviate the situation." One of the doctors called in a patient as they spoke, and a young man was brought in afterwards. "We've got a few people sitting here for a few hours, it's been so hectic..." There she went again, of course. Emma was an excellent nurse but had a propensity to speak too much at times. Naomi nodded.

"Of course. I'll take the people who've been here the longest, and after that, if you need me to stick around I will." It wasn't like the woman had much else to do or anyone to go home to. Sometimes she slept in her office or the on-call room after late nights, usually with Gabe. The two snarkily referred to them as 'sleepovers' and sometimes they couldn't help but act like it was one. Generally they acted like mature adults- easy for her, hard at times for him- but sometimes they'd drag themselves out of bed feeling like kids that had spent all night chatting and playing around. Nurse Wilson slipped a paper to Naomi, detailing the patient's complaint, put in three hours ago. It was wound cleaning, glass extraction, and suturing. The doctor cleared her throat and faced the room, her voice loud and clear.

"Mr. Williams? I'm ready to see you." Her attention turned to the tall blond man that had stood, the green dishtowel wrapped once again around the injured arm. His friend watched as he got up and left before he turned back to his magazine. Navel quietly walked into the treatment room she indicated, face pale.

To say Navel hated hospitals was an understatement. He loathed them with every fiber of his being; just being near one put him on edge. Having to wait so long inside one had made him snappish. Hell, fifteen minutes later and he probably would have walked out, gone home, and picked the glass out himself. He followed her to the treatment room and sat quietly down on the stool, revulsion rising in him as he looked around at the room. It was the same speckled tile of the area outside, and decorated with two black leather stools, a chair almost like a dentist's, and two tables. One held a laptop, a notebook, pens, and paper. The other was gleaming metal and held a tray with tissue paper on top. Naomi busied herself with scrubbing her hands, putting two latex gloves on- after she checked for tears, of course. He watched as she took out some alcohol wipes, antibiotic gel and cotton applicators, placing them on the tray. Bandages, a needle and sutures, forceps, and a small plastic tray were placed alongside the other supplies. Finally, she took a small bottle of local anesthetic and a few syringes, beginning to fill them as she spoke.

"So how did this happen?" Navel was jolted out of his thoughts at the sudden question.

"I was helping move my friend's glass table and screwed up." Her silver eyebrows arched and she looked up, tapping the syringe's barrel with her nail.

"That's unfortunate. Well, I'll try and get you out of here as soon as possible so you can go finally get home." She felt that glass-top tables were a disaster waiting to happen. She could just imagine- he had probably stumbled, dropped his end, and fallen- thrusting his arm through the glass in his instinctual need to put his hands out. "Okay, Little Guy. This should work pretty soon and then I can start extracting the glass." She took the cap off one of the needles, then held his arm down gently with her free hand. The needle slid into his arm, depositing the anesthetic it held. He sat in an uncomfortable silence as all the needles were emptied, his arm quickly numbing up. She tapped hard close to the wound. "Do you feel that?" "No, the anesthetic's working." She ripped open an alcohol pad and his nose wrinkled. God, that smell made him want to gag. As if the sterile scent of the hospital wasn't bad enough. He fidgeted as the cold pad made contact with his arm, wiping away the blood staining the wound. As soon as the site was sterilized, she threw the pad away and began to prepare the sutures. It was probably a good time to speak up about that... Nickname she had given him.

"Doctor, it's Navel. Navel Williams- I mean, it's Lance, Navel's my nickname," he added nervously. "I'm not- whatever you just called me." If any other doctor had called him that, he'd be kicking up a fuss, not correcting them so calmly... if uncomfortably. She didn't seem like regular doctors. For one, he was a little more at ease. Secondly, she felt so familiar. It was as if he had known her for a long, long time, and been through countless crises or days with her. He'd have known that face anywhere, but... No, he was sure he hadn't met her before... "Where did that come from?" Naomi paused in her task. She replayed what she said in her head.

Oh God, that was so patronizing. And it had just slipped out! That sounded like what she'd call a brave little kid being wheeled into the OR. That really, really wasn't professional. She looked into his eyes, her cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. "I usually think over my words before I say them, but it seems I was distracted. I'm sorry for that, Mr. Williams." She didn't want to say it was a good fit for him, no matter how mocking it sounded. 

"It's alright. Just wanted to call it to your attention." Lance propped his chin up with his free hand and looked towards the door, staring at the doctors and nurses hurrying by. The ambulatory patients followed them in an irregular stream. The only indication that the treatment had started to him was the sudden clinking of bloodied glass hitting metal. Naomi wielded the forceps with careful precision, drawing out the glass shards as quickly as she could. Blood dripped onto the tissue paper as she moved each shard over to the tray. "Luckily it seems there's not too much glass in the wound. I'm half done already," she informed him. Her deep blue eyes flicked up to see him watching the door with calculated disinterest. He wasn't going to allow himself to stare at her- that would just be creepy, even if she was so focused on his treatment. He fell into a daydream as Naomi finished extracting the glass.

He had always thought of joining the FBI but thought himself not qualified enough. In his daydream he saw himself standing in a nicely furbished, if a bit plain, office beside Naomi. She was dressed in an admittedly nice, though probably not really work-suitable, outfit. Were thigh-high boots acceptable for an office? And the suit seemed a bit... Flashy. He himself wore the suit he usually dressed in for his job. As he daydreamed about solving murders she sutured up the wound, sewing in small, neat sutures. She tied them off quietly and dipped a cotton applicator into the antibiotic gel, carefully painting the sutures with it.

"Oh, you're done?" Little Guy broke free of the reverie as she bandaged his arm and began to dispose of the applicator, glass, and syringes. 

"That's right. I worked as fast as I could," she replied. 

"No, no, I wasn't complaining. That was pretty fast, although anything would be better than sitting in that waiting room for another three hours," he smiled. "Ah, wait! What's your name, Doctor?" So he didn't really get why he needed to know her name, but whatever. She peeled her gloves off and tossed them in the trash, then opened the medical waste bin.

"Doctor Kimishima. It was nice to meet you, but I hope you won't land in the ER again." The blond stared at her back before getting up. 

"Uh... Yeah. I'll be leaving. Thanks, Doctor Kimishima." She seemed a bit cold at first glance... Lance tossed the dishrag into the trash and then took his leave with his friend. Naomi, meanwhile, delved into a hectic night, treating both the patients before the accident and the victims. It was very late when she stumbled into the on-call room, bone-tired. She opened the door and flicked the light on, not realizing her old friend was in there and had been woken up.

"Couldn't have blared a fanfare to announce your presence, oh queen of the hospital and lady of the on-call room?" he groused. Naomi tried to start an apology, but was quickly cut off. "Uh-uh, not right now. You're barred from breakfast the other doctors and I tomorrow." He turned over and pulled the covers over his head, leaving her to sigh loudly. That, of course, drew another complaint from him. The other doctor quietly pulled her white coat off and folded it. She left it by the end of the bed and laid down. She could break into the breakfast, Maria would vouch for her. Maybe Derek, too, if he was there. Home sweet home, the on-call room. Naomi tucked her arm under her head and pulled the covers over her, trying to sleep but staring into the darkness. She had felt the same feeling of recollection and familiarity when meeting the other doctors, but it wasn't nearly as strong as when she had met Lance. 

"...Gabe, wait. Before you go back to sleep. I met someone who felt very familiar. Moreso than others... Is that strange?"

"Naomi, go to sleep."


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day dawns in Portland for all the doctors and Little Guy. He decides to give a gift to them to make their morning a bit sweeter.

The cafeteria was lively in the morning as always. The strong scent of coffee and soft conversations filled the large room as everyone prepared for the day. The morning birds chatted among themselves merrily about upcoming procedures or what they did last night, and the night owls moodily stabbed at their breakfast or scooped up their cereal or sipped at their steaming hot coffee. Naomi's colleagues were clustered at two tables.

Naomi approached with her breakfast, then took a seat next to Maria at the end of the table. Gabe had either forgiven her, forgotten the offense she committed last night, or was just too damn tired to care. Either way, it worked out in her favor. Tomoe and Maria were discussing an upcoming endoscopic procedure, Hank was telling Gabe about this show he watched. It was a one-sided conversation, with Gabe's responses only being soft grunts to indicate he was listening. Erhard said... Nothing. That wasn't surprising, he tended to keep to himself in the mornings. She and Erhard got along well because of that. She listened as Derek regaled Tyler about the tales of some hotshot surgeons over in LA. Something about a conference that was coming up, where they would be giving a demonstration of a recently created culture fluid that would greatly speed up harvesting skin for skin grafts. The man sounded almost like a kid in a candy store with his glee... She was a bit surprised Erhard wasn't joining in on the conversation, it seemed like something that would interest him.

"Derek, watch out, you might be usurped as a master surgeon if these two are as good as you say," she called to the head of the table. Derek smiled and waved a hand as if to dismiss that comment.

"Hey, I keep up with the latest techniques, I'm not going to be upstaged anytime soon. Angie and I are a great team and could beat them," he told her. She shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention to her breakfast, her attention focused on her coffee. She set about adding half a packet of sugar and a couple tiny containers of creamer.

As she stirred the additions in, Naomi noticed a piece of bacon- presumably pilfered from Gabe's plate- had appeared on one of the napkins beside her bowl. Maria had her hand out for a stealthy high-five at her side. Eh, Gabe wouldn't miss it- he was half-asleep. Naomi reached down, giving Maria the high-five she deserved. She spooned up a bit of oatmeal and chased it with a quick swallow of coffee.

As the doctors talked and ate breakfast- and some slowly woke up- Little Guy found himself at a coffee place, holding three bags of coffee grinds. The person manning the counter gave him a weird look as he brought them all up. They reached for a plastic bag, and Lance reached for his card.

"Coffee junkie, or did you just get stuck buyin' for the office?" His eyes narrowed as he shook his head. He wasn't a morning person, honestly. "Just ring these three up and get me a medium coffee with a little bit of cream. Light roast, no sugar. Thanks." He dumped the bags onto the counter and looked around at the coffee shop. He didn't look all that friendly. The bright light coming in from the windows hurt his eyes slightly as he looked out at the street. The coffee shop was dim and small, which made the sunlight seem that much brighter, but still managed to be... Cozy, if he wanted to use that word. A nice place for a date, he thought to himself. An image of the doctor who'd treated him yesterday sprang to mind. The blond tried to shake the thought away, focusing instead on the few pedestrians ambling along the sidewalks and cars streaming down the road. He took the offered bag and his card back as soon as the worker rang him up. The smell of coffee and fresh-baked pastries enveloped him, helping him in his journey to wake up for the day. He took the coffee the second it was passed to him and turned away. It was so hard to fight the urge to drink it down, and only the idea of a scalded tongue reigned him in. He marched out into the cold, sharp morning with his card in his pocket, the coffee in hand, and the plastic bag held in a tight grip.

He took the lid off the cup of coffee, then left it on the hood of his car for it to cool. He pried open the glove compartment, searching for a scrap of paper and pen, something, anything he could write on. His roving fingers met an envelope, and just a bit farther beyond, a black pen. It seemed dead at first, but came to life after scrawling circles on the bottom half of the envelope. He wrote 'Thanks to the doctor that treated me. Enjoy the coffee, everyone. -Lance Williams' in his best writing, tore the envelope in half, and stuck the message into the bag. Now that his job was done, he got out and snatched his cup of coffee. Without thinking, he took a generous sip, needing to wake up more.

For his impatience, he ended up with a lightly scalded tongue, a mouthful of coffee spat on the ground. Not to mention the glare of a pair of young parents walking by with their child as he let loose with a few soft, pained 'Fucks', occasionally sprinkled with a 'Shit' or 'Goddammit'. A burned tongue and setting foot in a hospital of his own will... He wasn't going to be the happiest camper in his office that morning. He forced the cap on with a scowl and got into the car, driving off to the hospital yet again. It wasn't too far out of his way. At any rate, he'd gotten up a little earlier than usual to accommodate the detour. In less than fifteen minutes, he was parked and standing at the main entrance to the dreaded hospital. He steeled himself with a few slow, deep breaths, drawing a few strange looks from passers-by. Just in and out, that was it; then he could go to work and forget this whole thing. He approached the secretary at the front desk and cleared his throat. "Sorry, but I brought some coffee for the surgeons. Can you point out the break room?" The secretary looked at him, perplexed. "Which one? There's a few breakrooms that the surgeons frequent," he said. "Was the surgeon from oncology, pediatrics-" He had noticed the confused look on the man's face and stopped short. "She... Helped me in the ER? Does that help any?" "Well, there were a few surgeons down there," he shrugged. "Big accident. There's a break room between the ER and OR, I can get someone to run it down," the secretary offered. "Give it here." He reached out for the bag, which Lance gladly handed over. He vastly preferred not having to wander deeper into the hospital. "Thanks," he said earnestly. "Have a good day." Without waiting for a nicety in return, he turned and left. 

It wasn't long before some doctors and nurses trickled in to the break room, a good amount of them exhausted from the night before. The coffee pot was steadily emptied as more people came in, desperate for more energy. Halfway through the pot of French vanilla- the dark roast had been depleted and the light roast was still lying in wait- Naomi came in. It was almost noon, but coffee was essentially an anytime drink for her. She retrieved her usual purple mug from the cabinet- a beautiful mug with peonies printed on it, a gift from Tomoe when she went back to visit her father while he was ill- and filled it up, adding sugar and cream as usual. She took a long swallow, eyes opening slightly. 

"Excuse me, Hank. What kind of coffee is this?" He turned back from the microwave from where he was heating his lunch up- he had been called away just when it was ready for an emergency surgery on a skateboarder who had been trying to grind on a rail, at the top of a couple flights of stairs. 

"I think someone said it was French vanilla. Chief Patel had someone make it instead of the light roast, apparently she likes it a lot. Coffee's not my thing, I can't have jittery hands when I'm operating." Naomi held back from telling him he was missing out and that maybe he should try decaf. It was admirable that he cared so much about his patients and his precision, though. It was, ultimately, his choice.

"Did a nurse bring it in?" 

"No, the man who brought it left a note." He took it and passed it over. She read the brief note while sipping her coffee, smiling as she drank it. That wasn't lost on Hank. "You seem to be in a good mood today, Naomi. Is he a friend of yours?"

"No, but it seems like I know him well. Like that feeling you had when you met Gabe in medical school, but a little stronger than that," she explained. He nodded impassively and took his lunch out of the microwave. "Pity he didn't leave his number so we could thank him," she said quietly. "Good luck with the rest of your surgeries, anyways. I'll be assisting in one three days from now," she reminded him. He indicated he heard her with a soft hum as she left. 

It was ridiculous, but she felt she owed him a thank you for the coffee. It was a nice gesture, and one of her favorite drinks. If she could remember her past life, she would remember he usually brought some in when they started getting along... After a while, they knew their orders by heart. A dark roast with a spoonful of sugar and a splash of cream for her, a light roast with a bit of cream for him. The two alternated days for when they got coffee during their time at CIFM. Naomi couldn't shake the familiar feeling that plagued her even as she walked to the ER. It was tranquil compared to before, only a mother holding her feverish, squalling baby sitting there. It wasn't long before she was brought in.

"Good morning, Doctor Kimishima." The young woman smiled up at her. "Is there something you need today?"

"Yes, I need a patient's phone number so I can remind him to make an appointment to get his sutures out, I'm not sure if he made one before leaving... Lance Williams. He was here yesterday around 5:10," the silver-haired woman helpfully added. 

"Oh, of course! Let me get it right now. I think he left afterwards, it was so hectic last night... You're such a caring doctor, going to this length to make sure he gets good care." If she knew what Naomi actually wanted, she wouldn't have been calling it caring, more of a waste of time and a bit ridiculous. "We've got his home phone number here. Will that do?"

"It will do fine. I've got time to call him now, so..." Emma nodded and wrote it down, giving her a sticky note with his number. "I'll tell him to come in in eleven days. There weren't too many sutures for a wound of that size after all." The nurse nodded in confirmation and watched as Naomi left. Damn, she seemed to be in a hurry. Maybe it could be chalked up for her having only a scant bit of time before preparing for another case.

The surgeon hurried to her office and locked the door. It was a necessity- if Maria or Tyler or Gabe saw her doing this, they'd definitely rib her about it. She took a deep breath and willed herself to calm down. She envisioned a calm shore, focusing on the sound of the waves. It wasn't long before she was calm and confident enough to give him a ring. She took out her cell phone instead of her office phone and dialed him up. The usual dial tone sonorously rang out, ending with a message.

"Lance Williams' residence. As you can guess, I'm currently busy and can't get to the phone. I'll call you back as soon as I can, so please leave a message." Shit. Well, that wouldn't discourage her from her task.

"Hello, it's the doctor that treated you yesterday. Kimishima." This felt incredibly awkward, but she had an excuse... "This isn't why I'm calling-" What a bald-faced lie- "-But thank you for the coffee. I've never had French vanilla before. I'm usually a fan of the dark roast, but it was gone by the time I got into the breakroom between surgeries, because everyone was drinking so much. The ones that stuck after work were tired and there was a bad pileup early in the morning some people got called in for." Naomi was acutely aware she was rambling like a schoolgirl, but shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Breathe... Focus. "Anyways, you should get the stitches out in eleven days. I don't know if Emma told you and you made an appointment, but I wanted to make sure of it... My cell phone number is 207-431-3945. And my extension at the hospital is 964. Call back, if you wish. But you better start off with 'I made an appointment for suture removal', it's not something you can do yourself. You'd be a fool to try it." 

She clicked the end call button and placed the flip phone on her desk, letting out a ragged sigh. All she had to do was remind him of sutures and say thank you. The surgeon could have just said, "It's Kimishima. Thanks for the coffee, everyone loved it. Please make an appointment for suture removal with someone in eleven days. Bye." But no. Naomi just had to let her sharp tongue go at the end and draw it all out. The man probably thought she was an idiot or something... This went beyond a doctor's usual caring. The desk drawer clattered and rumbled as she opened it, and she stored her cell phone inside quietly. There was one more surgery to do for the day, and then the usual paperwork...

Lance returned home to his apartment later than usual, bundled in a zip-up sweatjacket and a scarf. It looked ridiculous on him with the suit pants and dress shoes, but a warm coat was a warm coat. It was bitter cold for late March, almost like it was still February. The famed March winds didn't help any. His breath rose as a fog into the night air. He grasped the freezing cold doorknob and tore it open, hurrying inside to turn the heat and lights on. He kicked his shoes off by the door and unzipped his jacket, hanging it on a coathanger with the scarf haphazardly slung over the top. The blond's stomach snarled and he rolled his eyes, heading into the kitchen and peering into the cabinet. He grabbed a can of soup at random and pried it open, dumping the contents into a glass bowl. He stuck it into the microwave and keyed in two minutes, then headed to his bedroom. 

The smell of the corn chowder began to fill the kitchen, wafting into his bedroom, as he changed. The microwave beeped shrilly to indicate it was done. He looked so different now, a tired man wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms at the end of a long day, instead of the sharp-dressed worker he usually presented himself as. He padded over to the closet and hung his suit up neatly before noticing something. The answering machine had been blinking on and off and the phone read that he had missed one message. It was probably Liam, still pissed about the broken table. Maybe he wanted to make amends and apologize? Little Guy didn't expect much of anything as he played the message back. But no, it wasn't his friend. It was that doctor, that familiar doctor.

"Hello, it's the doctor that treated you yesterday. Kimishima." His heart fluttered uncharacteristically and he berated himself for it. It was the doctor, big deal. All she wanted was for him to make an appointment. But the man found himself getting to his feet and replaying her message, scrawling down her cell phone number on the notepad on his dresser. He entered the number in, double-checking it before hitting send, and sat himself on the bed while he waited and hoped for her to pick up.


	3. Idle Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is surprised to see he actually got a call from her and returns it. He manages to have a talk with her. Naomi manages to get herself roped into something.

Lance laid back on his bed and listened to the sonorous drone of the dial tone. God, he really hoped she picked up. His fingers tapped restlessly on his covers, the dull staccato mingling with the dial tone. However, it soon fell away, covered by the roar of- what that an engine? He instinctively jerked the phone away from his ear by an inch. Did she drive a damn monster truck? He really thought she'd drive something discreet, maybe on the fancy side. A sleek black car that didn't make this much noise. Well... He was mostly right.

"This is Naomi Kimishima." The roar of the exposed engine seemed to fade a little as she slowed down and pulled into the parking lot of a gas station. He tentatively moved the phone closer, assuming that cacophony wasn't going to resume, and cleared his throat.

"I know you wanted me to make an appointment for suture removal, but I hope you'll be satisfied with me telling you that I'll make one right after this. Promise." Damn, that sounded even better out loud. He was smooth as hell, wasn't he? It was a victory to him to say that instead of a generic greeting. Naomi paused as she stopped the car and took a moment to try and remember.

"Mr. Williams?" The blond found himself smiling a little- good, he didn't have to jog her memory. It felt nice- and a little exciting- to talk to her on the phone like this, to have a quick little chat before dinner. If he knew what had gone on in their past life he would have been dumbfounded she had called back, let alone let them carry on a conversation. But they didn't work together anymore... Eh. Meanwhile, she was mentally patting herself on the back for not using that idiotic nickname that had slipped out during their first meeting.

"Yeah, it's me. Sorry, it took a while before I got home to see the messaging machine blinking." Right- of course that hadn't been his cell, people still had home phones. She wasn't used to giving her home phone's number out with how little she was at home some weeks. "Work ran late today. I was just wondering, if maybe..."

Oh, God.

Oh, God, he knew he'd fuck up.

The surgeon heard a rush of static as he sighed. He accompanied it by pushing a hand through his hair and dragging it back. "Goddammit." The word was quiet but definitely there. She sat back and rested her elbow in her free hand, staring out at the lights cutting through the night.

"What happened, you were wondering what? If it's suture removal, I'm not sure I have the time to spare to do it." With the surgeries she could have, she wasn't quite sure if she could spare fifteen or twenty minutes to remove the stitches. The only time she could for sure was if she hung by after work. Lance's frustrated expression suddenly lightened.

"That was it, I was hoping you could have some time to remove the stitches." His voice sounded perfectly natural in that little half-truth. He did hope she could do it, but he had been maybe five seconds from asking her out on a date. That would have been preposterous. They knew each other for a maybe a day, met when he had fallen and gotten injured, and he wanted to ask her to the movies or dinner? He silently thanked Naomi for her accidentally brilliant excuse. "Sorry about that, I don't like doctors and hospitals too much. I guess I was comfortable enough around you to ask." He was serious about that, too.

Ever since he was young he had some inexplicable fear of doctors and hospitals. Even now he tried to get out of physicals and only set foot in the hospital when it was necessary. Every time he stepped in the door, he felt a chill race down his spine. Hospitals felt so wrong to him. They were supposed to help people. They were there to make people healthy again if they could. So why did he think they were only there to kill and harm and extend people's suffering? Why did he think the doctors were just going to hurt him or make him worse? He'd suffered from pneumothoraces for a while. The cause, they said, were small blisters on his right lung that sometimes burst. He usually waited them out to see if it would be resolved on its own, but when he had to go to the hospital, it was a real horror show to him. Even now he felt uncomfortable. He only snapped out of his thoughts when Naomi spoke.

"I've got several surgeries on the day you probably need to get them taken out. Look, I'm a very busy person who takes her job very seriously, I can't just waltz off for a little while to cut and pull them out." Lance expected as much. "I mean, I could stay after one day and get a treatment room if you can come immediately after work..." Why was she offering to do that? He was just a patient that had come in. Sure, he had come in that morning with coffee (and become the savior of the caffeine-deprived), but that was it. He had been thoughtful, but she really didn't need to do this. Naomi couldn't justify it as putting a patient at ease, either. Unfortunately, before she could rescind the invitation, he was enthusiastically accepting.

"I'm glad you can make time to do it. So... I'll make the appointment with you, then?" Well. She couldn't back out now. "Yes, that's what we'll do." She drew the phone away and covered the lower half so her sigh was muted, then returned it to its normal position. "It should be done on April sixth. My shift ends around five in the evening. And yours?"

"Same time," he said. "Usually it ends at five, I mean. Sometimes I have to stay late for paperwork." He could try and wriggle out of it if any remained on the sixth. "I can get out of it if I need to do and just do it when I come in for suture removal." She wasn't all that sure, and to her, this already seemed like too much of a hassle. The surgeon was usually great at thinking before speaking. She loathed how she just blurted that out. Now he was going to hold her to it. Wonderful.

"Understood. I'll call you later on in the week to set things up." She hung up and cut him off mid-'Goodbye, Doctor Kimishima', and before he could suggest he call her Lance instead of Mr. Williams.

Well, that was successful enough, he supposed. He tossed the phone onto his bed and wandered into the kitchen, taking his bowl of corn chowder out of the microwave. The steaming hot meal cut the cold chill still present in his home. Or maybe it cut through Kimishima's coldness...


	4. [Interim] Dreams of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look into a previous life.

Another week, another death, another case. That was the endless cycle at CIFM. Every day bore the same thing. The bodies came in and were sent out. Autopsies were done with care, jokes were cracked, tests ran. Results came back, paperwork was completed, then signed and filed away until it was time to file testimony or the case was re-opened. The Rosalia epidemic had marred this strange peace, but the rash of strange cases it brought had subsided. The virus had been put to rest. People mourned, were cured, were put to rest. The cycle of life and death continued, but the epidemic wouldn't be forgotten anytime soon.

Several months had passed since then. Early spring had given way to summer, which gave way to early autumn. Alyssa had gotten out of the hospital and was having her remaining wounds tended to by Naomi, and had started the fourth grade. Little Guy often helped out when he could, picking her up or babysitting her when Naomi had to go to the store to pick up any essentials, or more often, takeout when delivery wasn't an option. Living with someone else was still a new thing to her- two others, actually, with how often he stayed over. He was getting to more-or-less be a permanent resident there now. 

Cold rain drizzled down the windows, providing a soft background to the usual hustle-and-bustle of the institute. A gray sky roiled above. It was probably going to get worse before it cleared up. Business went on as usual on that rainy day. He scanned the documents contained in the folder as he walked, noting the results of the toxicology report. No alcohol, but there were benzodiazapines in the report. It was looking less like a suicide, more like a murder to him. Similar to the attempted murder in the Parker case. They had found wounds which couldn't have possibly been caused before the victim had died, and Naomi was due to head out and check the crime scene when permission was given. As he neared her office, he reached into his pocket and withdrew something. He slipped it into the folder and rapped on her door. "I've got the toxicology results."

"Come in, then." Before the muffled reply was even out of her mouth, he had already opened the door and entered. It was more of a formality now, really. He was one of the three allowed to freely come- the other two being her handler and her boss. She was deep in thought at her computer, her hand supporting her head as she looked over the evidence they'd gathered so far. Some of them were being analyzed. They were just waiting on results- him to scan them and send them, her to finish the mystery of this person's death. He tapped on her shoulder and stole a swift kiss once she had turned to face him, smiling at the faint flush on her cheeks.

"We're at work, be professional," she chided gently. He shrugged and put the folder on her desk. 

"So should I remind you next time you do that, then?" She paused for a moment, considered, and shook her head with a faint smile.

"Touché. How are all the analysis going?" As she spoke she turned back again to the computer. "The analysis of the blood on the razor is still going on?"

"Almost done. I might have something to send once I get back to the office. I'll see you when it's time to go home." After he left, all was silent in the office once again. After working in silence for a few moments to finish up the document she was working on, she moved to rifle through the folder. When she took hold of it, something crackled inside. What in the world had he done?

A bag of sour gummy worms rested on top of the results. Her lips curved into a smile at the sight- one of her favorite candies. (Not the most sophisticated, but hey.) The plastic crinkled as she tore it open, taking one of the candies in hand. The coroner popped it into her mouth and leaned back in her chair, savoring the tart taste of them. The bitterness spread across her tongue as she chewed, taking her sweet time. That was certainly kind of him- when had he gotten the time to do that? While the sweets were welcome, they'd have to be saved for later. There was work to be done.

The agent wasn't even in his office a minute before his computer beeped off, displaying the speaker icon, which dominated the screen. He sat down and pulled the chair up to the desk, clicking on the icon. His hand groped the smooth surface of his desk, finally meeting plastic. He dipped his hand in and withdrew a small candy, packaged to look like a strawberry.

"What is it, Doctor?" He unwrapped the candy in one deft movement and placed it in his mouth. The sweet, yet slightly bitter, taste of artificial strawberries grew with each second, coating his tongue. "I haven't checked the results yet, if you're calling about that. I just got back to the office." He leaned his arm on the desk, propping his head up. His eyes slowly closed as he sucked on the candy, waiting for her answer.

"No, I just wanted to thank you for the candy," came the reply. "It was a nice surprise on a dreary day. When did you get them?" Oh, right. When did he get them? He paused a moment, going over the day. Gotten coffee, brought in the body, assisted in autopsy, tried to get permission to visit the scene, went over to the labs to drop paperwork off- right, lunch. He'd went over to the candy section while Naomi was standing in line at the deli and grabbed them both candy, then discarded the plastic bag and stuck them in his pocket. It had taken some light fibbing to take her off the scent.

"When we were at lunch," he said simply. "Got the drinks, candy, and chips while you were waiting. I wasn't entirely truthful when I said it was only my chips in there." A soft strain of laughter drifted through the computer's speakers. 

"Nice trick. I'm saving these for later, though. I don't want the sour crystals on the keyboard, you see." That was pretty reasonable. He smiled sheepishly to himself.

"I'm probably eating all my strawberry bonbons before we leave." He clicked over to his email- no results, but the way to the crime scene was clear.

"What?" 

"...The candies wrapped to look like strawberries," he clarified. "No one ever knows the name. We've got permission to leave and check the scene, by the way. I'll come collect you in a second." He ended the call after her 'see you soon' and dug into the bag, taking a candy (or four) with him for the trip. He logged out of his email and computer before grabbing his jacket and umbrella.

Just the thought of getting to spend time with her, even for work, gave him a brief moment of sunshine on the stormy day.


	5. Removal

_NAVEL: So I'm seeing you at 5:30, right?_

Lance looked down at the phone hidden in his lap, waiting quietly for the reply to his text. Everything was winding down at the office. Fatigue was setting in for the ones who weren't antsy and glancing at the clock every few moments; the clattering of keyboard keys slowly faded as more and more people finished up their work and got ready to leave. Hushed conversations about paperwork and cases slowly ended, turning into raucous conversations about who'd go out drinking with the group tonight. He would probably be able to make it to the appointment on time. Liam wouldn't be stuck helping with his work, which he would be delighted to hear. He shifted slightly before sitting up, raking a tired hand through his hair. His phone chirped softly as a new message came up. They had agreed to text each other- ostensibly so she could ask about infection, how the wound was doing, and remind him of the upcoming treatment.

_N.K.:Yes, that's the time we agreed on. Treatment room 2, first floor, left wing. Ask a nurse if you need to. Don't be late._

_I won't be late, don't worry. See you soon._ He slipped the phone back into his pocket once he replied, standing up for a moment to stretch. His body ached dully before it faded away, taking some of the day's stress with it. He thought it was more than a little strange to be excited to go to a doctor's appointment; she really was different to him. The doctor was tolerable despite her profession. Sure, going to her meant going through that chilling, impersonal hospital, but it wouldn't be too much of a deterrent. He'd wanted these out, anyways. Keeping them covered the first couple days was a bit of a pain, but moving and feeling them subtly tug was awful; checking them for infection and bandaging them was a pain to him. He shrugged on his coat and logged off, then powered off the computer. The monitor went a vivid sky blue for a moment, then the brilliant hue cut off suddenly. He turned his gaze away from the dark monitor and grabbed his briefcase, hefting it with his good arm. His friend stopped outside his cubicle and stuck his head in. 

"So am I stuck doing your work for you?" Liam stared coolly at him, leaning lightly against the opening. His bag swung back and forth lightly in his hand as he waited for the reply. Lance shook his head absently and squeezed past him.

"No, we're all good here. Got it done a few minutes ago." The man's face instantly lit up. He had only agreed because he had assumed doing his friend's work would get him off the hook for the coffee table incident.

"Oh, that's great! Jesus, I thought you were going to slack off all day and make me do everything." A grin came to his face as he walked beside him. "So you've got a hot date with the doc tonight then?" He shouldered the door open and waited for the blond to walk through before he stepped away. (Letting it close in someone's face.)

"By "hot date", you mean "suture removal", then yes," he answered. He ignored the quiet 'But that is what I meant' and thrust his hand into his pocket, feeling around for his keys. "So no, I can't join you and Victoria for dinner tonight. Maybe tomorrow." It wasn't like tomorrow was going to be anything interesting in the evening- just TV, reading, or practicing his guitar. Liam nodded and followed him to his car. Streams of traffic roared by in the slowly dimming light. A blaring car horn pierced the air, scolding bad drivers or aggressively alerting other drivers to the fact that the intersection's light had turned green approximately 0.5 seconds ago. On occasion, someone would pull in or out of the police station, leading to an irregular flow of cars. His fingers brushed the plastic of his alarm and he held it up, pointing out at the parking lot. His car chirped twice, the headlights flashing briefly.

"Yeah, no problem. Do you want one of us to pick up a strawberry cheesecake or something for dessert?" The very thought of it almost made his mouth start watering... No. He had to play it cool. It would be the only moment of being calm and collected he would get tonight. He strode over to his car and pulled the door open, getting in.

"That'd be good," he replied casually. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Tell Victoria I said hi." He started the car up and waited for Liam to move out of the way before he sped out of the parking lot, intent on getting to their meeting in time.

Five-thirty... That meant there was more than enough time to grab a quick bite to eat at the cafeteria. Her heels clicked briskly on the floor as she walked down the hallway. The hospital always made her feel at ease, like she was meant to be here helping people; it made her feel like everything was right once she stepped through the doors. Anything that was bothering her could be carefully pushed aside and ignored as she went through the practiced motions of various surgeries and treatments. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting everything in a warm glow; hospital personnel walked the halls. She stuck to one side as she walked, careful not to run into anyone.

"Naomi." The doctor stopped short as her name was called, turning around to see who had called her. Her lips curled in a small smile as she caught sight of them.

"Good evening, Angie. What do you need?" The nurse slowed her pace as she caught up to the other. She smiled briefly in return.

"You seemed like you were going somewhere in a hurry," she said. Moreso than usual. "Is there an incident?" She shook her head and started walking.

"I took on an extra patient today. He's coming at 5:30, I'm going to eat dinner here," she explained. "You're welcome to join me if you'd like." She thought for a moment. Derek was busy anyways... An emergency operation caused by post-op complications. She really had nothing to lose by it. There was a good chance they'd have just stopped by here anyways, if his surgery dragged on long enough; there was no use going out or cooking at home if one or both of them were half-asleep. She nodded.

"Sure, I'll have dinner with you." The enigmatic smiled returned for a brief moment before she turned, resuming her journey to the cafeteria. The scent of food and coffee drifted out of the cafeteria, growing stronger and stronger as they got closer. "Is the macaroni good?" Naomi lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. 

"You don't know until you try it, I suppose... I'd assume middling quality, like most everything here. I'm just getting a sandwich." There probably weren't many ways they could screw up a sandwich, right? They were usually premade somewhere, and while they could be a bit soggy at times, that was unavoidable. She could grin and bear it. "I'll pay for yours tonight, if you'll allow it." 

"That'd be great of you," she said happily. "I'll return the favor soon. Just order some macaroni and cheese and lemon iced tea for me, please." That was a solid enough choice- she doubted they could mess up mac and cheese. 

"Be back in a minute. Find us a spot, would you?" They went their separate ways- Angie to a table, Naomi to the line. She glanced up at the clock as she waited; if she was lucky, she'd get twenty minutes... She was snapped out of her reverie at the server's question of what she wanted; she put in the order for a chicken salad sandwich and macaroni and cheese. She grabbed a pair of drinks from the fridge and plunked them down on the counter, paying for everything and putting it all on the tray. Angie was easy enough to spot- especially with her waving once she caught sight of Naomi looking around for her. She couldn't hold back her small smile at the sight and walked over, taking her sandwich and opening it. Bit soggy, but not too bad; all that mattered was that it was fresh. Angie took a drink of her iced tea before pulling her plate over to her.

"So why did you agree to take on an extra patient?" Angie asked, dipping a fork into her dinner. "You could have given him to another doctor who had time in their schedule." Naomi shrugged. 

"I could sense his discomfort at having to be in the hospital," she answered, "and a doctor has to care for their patients both physically and by helping to ease their anxieties, if possible. If that means staying late to put him at ease with a familiar face, I'll gladly do it." It wasn't all him; she felt like... Well, she felt like she liked being around him. It was like returning to somewhere nostalgic and familiar, something soothing that she wanted to be around and looked forward to. The two ate in silence, Naomi glancing at the clock every so often. "...It's time for me to go," she said five minutes before the appointment. "I'll see you later, okay?" 

"Sure, see you Wednesday," she answered. "Our days off won't match up this week." She waved at the doctor, striding off to the treatment room.

He was there when she arrived. That made things a bit easier, she liked timeliness. "Come on in." She heard him follow behind her, reticent; hospitals didn't just make him uncomfortable. He was a bit scared of them unbeknownst to her. He stayed quiet as he sat down, eyeing the tools laid out. God, he was happy to get them out, sure- they seemed like they'd been in there for years to him- but he really didn't want to be here all the same.

"Good evening, Doctor," he muttered quietly as she sat down.

"Nice to see you," Naomi responded briskly. "If it puts you at ease, take your phone out and play some music. That should help your anxiety towards the procedure." Had he been that obvious? With a self-deprecating chuckle, he took his phone out and maneuvered to his music. Not long after, acoustic guitar spread through the room- relaxing, slow, a song about a chill winter's day. "Nice choice."

"It's my favorite artist," he confessed. "I like to listen to this song when things get overwhelming." He didn't miss her smile.

"Lay your arm out, please," she commanded as she picked the scissors up. Resigned, he laid his arm on the sterile area and looked away.

He winced subtly at the feel of the sutures giving way with the snip of the scissors, feeling uncomfortable when they slid through his skin as she deftly removed them. He shifted in the chair, almost wanting to pull his arm away thanks to the foreign feeling. She didn't even notice. Her eyes were focused entirely on his arm and the black lines criss-crossing his skin. His arm twitched for a moment and he shifted away, an unconscious indication of how much he wanted to leave. "Stay still, please," she muttered testily. "We're almost done here." 

"Yes, Doctor Kimishima," he answered a bit reluctantly. He didn't want to watch the stark black threads sliding through his skin and piling up on the tray, or the scissors slicing through each one. "Uh- How long will this take, exactly?"

"Eight more," she reported. There was an air of distraction to her voice, she was focused on removing the sutures. He counted off each and every one- holding his breath slightly, letting it out shallowly- and let out a soft, short sigh of relief once he counted off an eighth snip of the scissors and an eighth thread pulled through his skin. "I know suture removal isn't all that pleasant-"

"Understatement-"

"...And I appreciate your patience," she ended with a mix of amusement and irritation. "Hold still for just another minute." He stayed still this time as the gel-covered cotton swab- cold, maybe a bit too cold- swiped across his arm. "No more annoyance over sutures or worrying about pulling them out." She got up to dispose of everything as Lance stood, slightly awkward.

"I'll see you, then, but hopefully not like that again. Good night, Doctor."

"Naomi. Good night, Mr. Williams."

"Lance," he returned with a smile. The anxiety of the procedure had disappeared, now he was feeling pretty good. Of course, getting on a first-name basis was putting a spring in his step too. "Get home safely," he said as he walked to the door.

"You, too."


	6. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Navel asks Naomi out for coffee.

Oh, God, this was one of the most nerve wracking things he could do. Maybe among the top 10, certainly. Lance stared down at the sleeping phone in his hand, waffling between whether to go ahead and do it or not or put the phone down and forget he had ever conceived of this plan.

Well, calling it a plan was a bit of a stretch. It was more like a loose idea that consisted of 'Ask her out'. His only qualification was 'by text'. The venue, the time, all that was to be determined. He had typed out several greetings and openers, and deleted them just as quickly.

'Heyyy Doctor, can I ask you something?'  
'How's your day been, any good surgery stories?'  
'Have you ever been on a date. How about one with me'  
'Please go on a date with me'  
'Roses are red, violets are blue. I'd like to ask you on a date.'

Oh, dammit, why was this so hard? It wasn't like he could just open up with that. He wanted a reason to talk to her, too. His fingers tapped, staccato, against the desk. He drew a blank on any clever openings. Maybe it was better to not force it and do what was natural. 

Too bad 'natural' drew a blank too. With a drawn-out sign, he rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes. All it was was a simple text, and he was having a hard time? Talk about hopeless. The phone, after a few minutes of sitting in silence, let out a birds' chirp. His eyes languidly rested on the alert onscreen.

N.K.: I wanted to check on you after the stitches removal.  
N.K.: Are you doing well?

He swiped the screen to unlock it and answered.

NAVEL: Things are great. Everything's healed up, though I think there's a nasty scar...

N.K.: To be expected, with a gash of that size. You may have a permanent one, or it may fade within a month to a year.

NAVEL: Great. Hey, can I ask you something?

This was how it should be- structure was going out the window in favor of being natural.

NAVEL: Are you free to get coffee one morning?

There was a pause. His heart was thrumming softly in his chest, a nervous pitter-patter as he waited for her reply. The cool plastic under his fingertips provided a counterpoint, something to focus on.

N.K.: Saturday and Sunday. Saturday?

Lance hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in one gentle exhalation. 

NAVEL: That works. I know this good cafe on Oak Avenue. It's called Perk Up. 

N.K.: ...  
N.K.: Better than Daily Grind or Has-Beans.

He caught himself chuckling.

NAVEL: It's near the downtown. We could meet there at 9?

A nine am date, and it was well worth it all. He tended to prefer to sleep on his days off, but she seemed used to waking early, what with the whole surgery thing.

N.K: Of course. I'll see you then.

NAVEL: Gladly. If you need anything else or have any other questions, you know where to reach me.

...Nervewracking. Butterflies trembled in his stomach, and he felt a bit shaky from the rush of nerves. He would have to have a hell of an opening line on Saturday.

\------------------------------------

Saturday came, and the sun peeked through occasional clouds. The coffee shop's fragrant air buzzed with conversations and the sound of baristas doing their jobs, and someone clearing his throat. The echo of the bell over the door died out.

"Hey, Naomi. Are you the period of ventricular depolarization and repolarization? Because... You're a QT." 

"...Excuse me?" He froze up. Oh, shit. He turned to look at her, feeling his face turn a nice red. 

"Oh, um- You snuck up on me-" There was only one way to go. "I said, are you a- are you a, um, a ventricular depolarization and repolarization," he said weakly. "Because- you're a QT," he finished. Why had he thought that line was a good idea... She cracked a small smile at the line.

"I believe that's incorrect, but you tried."

"Yeah-" He laughed briefly, glad it had gone over well. It was better than the E. coli line, to be sure... "Medical humor, right? I figured it'd be a good icebreaker..." She slid into the booth opposite him. 

"Thank you for inviting me out for coffee. I have a bit of a soft spot for it," she confessed. "I really did appreciate the coffee you dropped off for everyone; it was a nice pick-me-up after some routine surgeries. The French vanilla was beautiful." His eyes lit up.

"This is the place I got t from," he told her. "I visit it a lot before work- I work as an investigator." 

"Oh, really?" She learned forward, interest shining in her eyes. "I've always found crime scene things interesting. What is it you do, exactly?" He leaned back with a slow breath, trying to figure out how to phrase everything.

"I basically go around and gather information and evidence. Checking people's records, apprehending suspects, and interviewing them. It's not always for the weak-stomached. I've had to check out a corpse or two." 

"Interesting..." she replied softly. "You've got to tell me more next time." Next time...? 

"Next time?"

"If this is a good cafe, I'll want to do this again," she elaborated. "Maybe once a month- I'm sure your schedule must be as busy as mine." Well, it was. Work, practicing guitar, working late, spending time with friends... He broke into a smile.

"I'd love that, Naomi. Do you want me to go up and order us something?"

"Medium French vanilla and-" She glanced up to check the signboard. "A toasted cinnamon swirl bagel with strawberry cream cheese."

"Impressive taste," he said, jokingly. "I think I'll follow your lead. Be back in a few." He slid over to get out of the booth, ambling up to the counter. He glanced briefly at the menu before deciding on what he liked-

"Two toasted cinnamon swirl bagels and strawberry cream cheese, a small light roast with a splash of cream, and a medium french vanilla with- Naomi, do you want cream or sugar in it?" he called.

"I take it black."

"And a french vanilla," he finished rattling off.

"Of course, sir." He dug in his pocket for his wallet and swiped his card. The cinnamon swirl bagels behind the barista, in a rack that displayed the cafe's various baked goods, looked luscious. He stepped away from the counter and tapped his card against the counter as he waited, a rapid rhythm that annoyed the barista, who glared at him. He mouthed an apologetic 'sorry' and put the card away. Soon the food was ready- the cups snuggled in cardboard sleeves, the bagels dropped in a bag. He dropped everything off at the table and grabbed them both plastic knives.

"So when did you become a surgeon?" he asked as he sat. He opened the plastic bag and took out a napkin and his bagel, hissing slightly. Shit, these were hot...

"I take it I should watch out," she said drily. She plucked her bagel out quickly and did as he did, resting it on the table on an unfolded napkin. She took her coffee and took off the lid, looking at it with dismay. "I'm a fan of hot coffee, but not scaldingly hot... Anyways." She took a knife he offered and turned the bag upside down, letting the two plastic containers of cream cheese bounce out. "I finished my residency at 27- I've been a surgeon for a few years now at Resurgam. My colleagues are fantastic; many of them wanted to be surgeons since kids too. Now you- your turn." She appraised him, eyes sweeping over him as she spread the pastel pink cream cheese onto her bagel. "Do you have any stories to tell?" He thought for a few moments, sipping his coffee.

"I was going after this guy, right? He was known for petty robberies. He had stolen this pretty damn pricey doll and was on the run. I managed to corner him- "Hands up!"" He tried to sound as authoritative as possible, brows furrowed to make himself seem stern. I look closely, he's holding the doll up. Her hands are up just like his are." Naomi chuckled. "Why did you become a doctor, anyways?"

"Well, when I was a child in Okinawa..." 

The coffee shop was as busy as always. Patrons talked, coffee was poured and baristas chattered, and the pair's laughter intertwined in the warm, sweet-scented air.


End file.
